It’s a cool Saturday evening in Beausejour Village, Blue Basin, Diego Martin. Inside her front yard, Elizabeth Belcon, her family and neighbours slide a final batch of dough into a glowing dirt oven. The aroma of fresh bread fills the air.
This isn’t your average bakery. While classic white and wholemeal loaves are always available, it’s the speciality items that draw the crowds: coconut bakes, garlic bread, and artisanal loaves such as cranberry-walnut and pumpkin spice, as well as pone and coconut drops. Then there is the fan favourite – a parsley and cheese loaf that sells out almost instantly. Her baked goods are pocket-friendly, ranging between $20 and $40.
“Everything is made fresh,” Elizabeth tells Guardian Media, motioning to the golden loaves emerging from the heat.
She is the founder of the Beausejour Indigenous Bakery & Community Dirt Ovens, having established the project in 2022 to preserve traditional baking methods that are quickly fading.
“This is an actual visible and meaningful connection to our history, culture, and identity. This will be a great reminder of where we came from and the skills and values that shaped our ancestors—long after we are gone,” says the mother of three, who also serves as President of the Beausejour Community Council.
Her daughter, Raisa, explains why this work matters so much to the small, close-knit village.
“We have an aged population here. A lot of them would have grown up with this in their houses. It’s like reliving their past. It’s an opportunity for them to teach the younger generation as well.”
Elizabeth’s son Richard, an agriculture graduate from the Eastern Caribbean Institute of Agriculture and Forestry, describes the site as a vital community hub. The ovens, he tells us, act as a central point for sharing ideas and enjoying breakfast together as a village.
He is responsible for loading the ovens, relying on discarded pine pallets, wood from dead trees cut by neighbours, and bay leaf branches. As a farmer, he believes young people will find it difficult to acquire their first piece of land, “so teaming up is essential. Food production is unique. One cannot just show up with something new and expect sales. There must be a genuine need, high quality, and you have to ask the question, ‘are people culturally connected to this product?’”
Getting the project off the ground was a labour of love, but the biggest hurdle was deciding exactly where to put the ovens. Fortunately, Elizabeth’s husband, Ricardo, a direct descendant of the First Peoples, offered their front yard without hesitation.
Raisa handled the logo design and became the project’s lead coordinator, while Theresa Gibbs-Cordner, an executive council assistant, is always on hand helping in the kitchen. Funding came from the Digicel Foundation and the Ministry of Sport and Community Development.
“Special thanks to liaison Jenelle George,” Elizabeth notes, “we could not have done this without the support of the people, including Joel O’Garro, the council’s Vice President—they are key to all we do. All that goes into the dirt oven comes out as hope for the future of Beausejour and beyond.”
How the Magic Happens
It takes a bit of alchemy to make it all work.
Clay, mud and selected grasses were used to construct the two large, doorless ovens—one dome-shaped and one square—which use no gas or electricity. They run purely on wood —bamboo, coconut husks and untreated salvaged wood—burned down to glowing coals for at least 90 minutes.
“We do a ‘flour test’ to judge the heat,” Elizabeth explains. “When the flour turns the right colour, we know it’s ready.”
The bread goes in and, 15 to 20 minutes later, the smell of fresh bread engulfs the street. The dome oven holds 36 loaves, while the square oven holds 42.
While operations are primarily held on Saturdays, as everyone works a nine-to-five job, the team occasionally hosts breakfasts on Sundays or public holidays. People hear about special opening hours via social media or word of mouth.
“Check us on Sunday!” they inform neighbours as they pass by.
The site has also become a magnet for visitors from the UK, US, Canada, Barbados, Guyana, Mexico, Poland and Africa. Local tour groups, hikers, seniors and the National Trust are also frequent guests.
“They all express the same thing,” she notes. “This is the best experience they have had in a very long time. It’s more than just having a slice of bread; it’s a slice of Beausejour and the hospitality of Trinidad.”
Looking Ahead
Despite the project’s growing popularity, the team faces ongoing logistical challenges, particularly in transporting materials. Nevertheless, the initiative is poised for further development.
While the space currently hosts about 25 people for breakfast, future plans include expanded seating, a small café serving coffee, teas and traditional cocoa, pop-up events, corporate getaways, and youth pizza-making sessions.
Elizabeth also notes that the team has received requests to accommodate overnight guests; a goal they hope to make possible. They have already started conducting tours in partnership with neighbouring councils.
Beausejour—a name that translates from French to mean “welcome stay”—perfectly reflects the warmth shared so generously in this corner of Diego Martin.
